


Pain that Kills Pain

by JoyCL_1102



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Sherlock Holmes, Happy Ending, Helpful John Watson, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, My First Fanfic, Self-Harm, Sherlock Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-10-29 07:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20792597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyCL_1102/pseuds/JoyCL_1102
Summary: Sherlock couldn't understand - why would you pain yourself if you were already in pain? But that was a long time ago. Now Sherlock can understand.He really does.Or in which Sherlock is self harming.





	1. In which Sherlock is Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic upload and I'm pretty new to this whole stuff. Plus, I know practically nobody is gonna see this, but I'm still pretty thrilled at this upload.
> 
> Please Enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiles, a real smile in a couple of weeks.

Sherlock had once seen a roomate cut himself. His name was Gaby, or maybe Gray. Either way, he intrigued Shelock magnificently.

Gaby - Gray - had sat, dumbfounded, looking at Sherlock, who had started talking. Shelock deduced him with great ease, making out the fact that he was bullied at school, and neglated in his house.

But what Sherlock couldn't quite figure out was, of course, why he had cut his wrists in such rough ways. Gaby - Gray - mumbled some words like 'Pain beats pain.' Or that ' You can fight pain with pain'.

That did not make sense, what so ever.

Sherlock became confused. He didn't like not knowing things, especially when it was intriguing.  
So, he cut himself. In front of Gaby._(now to think about it, his name was Gabriel)_

Gabriel gaped at the sight. Crimson red drippled down. Shelock frowned.

What had he said at the time? Yes, it was something like-

"This helps?"

To Sherlock, it had been a minor pain - he sought all sorts of painful things, it was an unlikely hobby - which made it impossible for him to understand.

Gabriel had _freaked_ out at that. He was a poor soul, weak and short. He babbled about changing rooms, which actually, he had managed to do.

Now, come to think of it, Sherlock thought that it might help. It was bizarre, but still...

Sherlock was hurting in the moment. He had decided that the reason was due to the depression that weighed him down- deep inside his heart.

Although he knew it, he couldn't get over it.  
That was a very vulnerable feeling that only made him more depressed. He tried pills. He spat them out after a few days.  
He tried happy thoughts. Yes, you really could picture rainbows and unicorns even if you were very upset.

John didn't notice a thing. Sherlock was good at hiding. He kept it all to himself, though sometimes slipped clues. That was merely mistakes. Maybe.

The truth was, is was getting hard despite efforts. What a relief Mycroft wasn't here. He would probably put his dear brother in help of an old and fat councler.

He hated that thought. Alone being so depressed with no clues to solve it made his pride falter. Being hugged, yes, he would die before that happened.

Sherlock gently rolledd his sleeves up. He could see the veins rushing blood in his body. John wouldn't be here by morning. He had a full day's worth of cutting time.

Deliberately, he put a blade on his wrists, feeling the cold metal.

He looked in the mirror. He would clean up beautifully, and he wouldn't leave a scar behind.

Shelock had crept into his bathroom for this. He stared at the sullen man in the mirror. He lowered his eyes to his wrists.

A soft movement. It was just a second before blood was dripping like the day when he had first, in front of Gabriel. Red dots formed. Pain rushed. Adrenaline- rushed.

And for a second, he could understand. Fighting pain with pain.

'Pain, then, can stop pain.'

He furiously cut, not so deep so that it showed, but such many that he had to change wrists.

Blood dripped in to the sink. When Sherlock was finished, he was feeling fulfiled.

  
He put the water on, making blood wash out. He then dressed the wounds. That was it. And it was fairly satisfying.

Sherlock smiled.

The wounds were not ugly.  
It was more like - _**beautiful**_.


	2. In which John is Suspicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a few days after his first cutting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to edit a few things, so it took a bit of time even though I had it ready.  
I'm really excited(again).
> 
> Please Enjoy :)

John was slowly getting to notice Sherlock's difference.  
It was small changes, but Sherlock's eyes would also smile when he smiled, and his grins looked more sincere.

Other things were more noticeable. Sherlock would twitch if you were to grab him on the arms, or wrists. That was such things that made your eyebrows twist up.

Sherlock didn't seem to care about John's reactions, although John doubted it.

It was then a silent night when John had a feeling. He couldn't decipher why, or how, but he still felt uneasy. He rushed in to his little flat, knowing how silly he would look like.

Inside had the usual abnormal house settings; a skull and a lot of science experimental equipmen. And also some food not touched for several hours.

He could smell a faint smell he couldn't easily say what it was-as there was almost none-but very familiar. His eyes darted to the couch where a detective lay with a gun(yes, a gun)in his hands.

Now he could see gunshots on the other side of the walls. He had just made up his mind to yell at Sherlock, mainly for the wall and some for his annoyance, when he had recognized the smell.

Blood.

How did he not figure that out? He had worked headlong for years, literally his whole life in bloodstains and deaths. But that was a secondary thought.

What, or rather, where was the source of this?

He deliberately looked at the sleeping detective. He seemed quite in peace.

'Probably from his experiments.'

But John couldn't just knock out the feeling surging in his head. It was an alarm that saved his life a quantity of times. The prickly sensation just wouldn't melt away.

It had never betrayed John, and so, he decided to follow it. He searched. And within minutes he found a drop of blood on the bathroom floor, just a few steps away from the sink.

It was so hard to see if you were to march out of the room, but yet when you lean just a bit more when coming in, you could easily spot it.

John carefully examined it. It was silly, but he knew. He just... knew he had to.  
John carefully steped into the bathroom. Everything was in rightful place. Or not.

A blade, very fumbly hidden lay on the bathroom cupboard. It wouldn't have bothered John so much.  
It shouldn't have.

John slowly seized the handle. It was not so cold-held recently. Sherlock had told him this skill himself. To see if it was cold, you just had to... well, let us keep up with the blade.

But why the blade? And the blood?

John saw it, but couldn't put it close. It just fell apart. His eyebrows wrinkled in a uncomfortable way.

He would find out.

-My senses are driving me mad.  
_When did it?_  
-But it's just a speck of blood.  
_But the smell is much thicker._  
-The blade couldn't matter.  
_Why so? It was the only thing touched._  
-Are you saying that...

John swallowed. No, it couldn't be. Yes, it had to be something different.

_His friend **couldn't** have._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I just made John seem very intelligent. Is it out of character..? I don't know... I'll fix it if it is.
> 
> Plus : I really think I messed this one, but... yes, I couldn't just edit more. (Makes sad face)


	3. In which John Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John hadn't expected this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit of time, and I am convinced the last one is going to take more. I'm sorry(for anyone who sees) for late updates, but Please Enjoy :)

It was such pleasant days. Even without cases, Sherlock couldn't feel bored. But you wouldn't have noticed the difference if you were not Ms. Hudson.

"Sherlock looks satisfied, don't you think, John?" She had said to John the other day, making tea for Sherlock - "I am not your house maid, Sherlock!"-frowning. John looked thoroughly at the man. He did look a bit happy, even without cases. He shrugged. How could he read the guy's thoughts?

John had been carefully treading on Sherlock's trails. Yet he found nothing - whether Sherlock was good, or there was a absolutely nothing. He was feeling that he was just fooling himself nowadays.

So he had nearly given up. When it all happened.

Both were not happy about it.

  
*

  
John had fought with Mary. He had forgotten their anniversary, as he was occupied with work and his flatmate. That was how John had to stroll the streets at 12pm. The cold was seeping inside his clothing, and so he decided to drink some coffee before he went home.

It was hot; and he liked it in that way. John sipped his coffee while he arrived at 221B Bakers Street. Things were a bit odd from the start. He fumbled with the keys, and barely got pass it. Then he tripped, with his coffee spilling across the floor. The sound echoed around.

Ms. Hudson won't like that.

John scrowned. A mess it was. He quickly fled up the stairs in an attempt to fetch some tissues -that he was reluctant would help- when he heard a door bang.

  
*

  
What the hell was John doing here?

Sherlock locked the door. From his wrists, blood pour. It splattered against the door, in his frantic movements to close it.

Sherlock moved fast; he hadn't a moment to spare. A luck he had all he needed to dress the wounds. He started the shower in a vain effort to give reasons for the closure of the door.

Why, why so early?

He was going to enjoy time with his pained scars. It was going to be wonderful. His mind set ablaze, again sparkling through cases and thoughts.

It was so ruined.

"Sherlock? Are you there?"

John's muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

"Can I come in?"

"If you want to see me naked, then yes."

There was silence, no footsteps or talks.

"Why do I smell blood, Sherlock?"

Sherlock swallowed.

"Was doing an experiment including it."

"Is that so?"

"Why are you obsessed in me, John?", Sherlock snapped. John went quiet.

"Open up."

"I said no."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed. He cleaned up his wounds. But if he put off his clothes, looking like he had run a shower, he would definatly show the cuts-or bandages-on his wrists.

The door opened, slowly.

  
*

  
He stood, with his sleeves right up to his palms, and slightly dripping pants. His cheeks were a bit blossoming with red, due to the sudden appearance of John.  
There was a silent drift of blood scented in the air. John knew it.

He stepped closer, snatching Sherlock's hand so that he hissed sharply. But at this moment he didn't even care. He gently removed the sleeves and the bandages he had applied, revealing the red mess below.

Rudely cut, yet too fresh wounds were looking at him. And the soft eyes of Sherlock were lying upon him.

John didn't look up, but closed the wound with bandages, with shaking hands.  
This was something they really needed to talk about.

John sighed.


	4. In which They Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (GASPS) I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS?????!!! Uh... well,
> 
> Please Enjoy :)

**00:30**

The two cleaned up the bathroom.

**01:30**

John looked at Sherlock. Sherlock remained his dispassionate face, and twanged his violin. With one of his hands on the violin, another had slumped against the couch on were he was sitting.

John just stared, wanting Sherlock to look back at him.

He never did.

**02:00**

  
John spoke first. Sherlock answered dryly. It was about the weather.

The blaze of the cozy fire reflected Sherlock's figure in such a way -the darkness and the vulnerability were clearly shown.

John didn't care.

  
**02:30**

  
John made tea.  
Nobody drank it.

  
**03:02**

  
John touched Sherlock's fingers. Sherlock twitched, and had an unmistakable face speaking his displeasure.  
John slowly reached up to touch Sherlock's palms. The violin made much more violent sounds.

John spoke, drowning out the unpleasant sounds his flatmate was making.  
It was about the date. Sherlock replied in a swift manner.

The soft talk was then overtaken by the violin.

John didn't care.

  
**03:29**

  
John made another tea.  
Sherlock drank a few sips. It was warm.

  
**03:50**

  
John asked again. It was about Sherlock's feelings. Sherlock answered with the slightest amount of sincerity.

And yet again, John's voice drowned out the violin's.

Although John had said quietly, it gently swept over the flat, comforting Sherlock - 'Why?' He thought - and making the violin silent.

  
**04:20**

  
The whispers from his friend were inaudible. It was like a lullaby, making Sherlock sleepy.

  
**07:00**

  
Sherlock had been out for a few hours, as well as John.  
It had, well, been a tiring day.

  
**07:15**

  
John asked. This time, Sherlock answered with honesty.  
It was about reasons.

The fire was dying. But the sun was rising.

  
**07:30**

  
Sherlock felt comforted. Though without the usual amount of cutting, he was in a good condition - mentally.

John was an excellent doctor.

  
**07:31**

  
The two talked.  
Maybe inaudible sometimes, maybe laughable sometimes, or maybe in mere blinks to eachother's eyes.  
They were talking, for the first time in a few weeks, or months.

Sometimes, just talking helps. Just talking about one's pain relives the pain. Realization can be medicines. And another's temperature can be better than pills.

What Sherlock earned from it was:  
Pain doesn't kill pain.

It only pretends to.

  
**07:50**

  
The sun rose.

_Let it all out_  
_Get it all out_  
_Rip it out remove it_  
_Don't be alarmed_  
_When the wound begins to bleed_

_-Let it all out(Relient K)-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I finished this.(Stays still for a moment)
> 
> Um, I don't have any words to put. But let us end with the usual words XD
> 
> Thank you for reading this!  
Let us meet at the next :)


End file.
